How To Train Your Heart
by The Storyologist
Summary: Love is never easy. It's as dangerous as a battlefield, and requires all the patience of training a dragon. But it's an adventure worth taking, and as young as they are, Hiccup and Astrid definitely have quite a journey ahead of them. A post-movie series of one-shots exploring the growth of Hiccup and Astrid's relationship.
1. Training a Heart

_A/N: Hello, people of the world! It's me again, your favorite story nerd back for another round of fan fever! It's been a while since I posted anything on this sight, and lately my imagination is itching for a little excercise , so I've decided to get a fresh start and try my hand at fanfiction once again. Welcome to what I hope is going to become a long, running series of HTTYD one-shots and drabbles. Some will be long, some will be short, some will be silly, some will be thought-provoking, some will be light and sweet, some will be dark and angsty, but all will be centered around the blossoming relationship between Hiccup and Astrid. _

_Before I say anything, I'd like to give a shout out to NotSoSpecialK, who encouraging me re-post this story after I had already taken it down. If you were on here a couple days ago, you have noticed that I posted this story and then deleted two hours later, due to a moment of panic and thinking it wasn't good enough to be kept up. But after some great, encouraging commentary from this user over a PM, and was convinced to give it another try. So special thanks to them, and thanks to you for checking this out! Enjoy and __please__ review! -Story _

_Disclaimer: I don't own How To Train Your Dragon. Nuff Said. _

How To Train Your Heart

Being Hiccup's girlfriend was more frustrating than trying to milk a yak.

She'd thought she was going to explode the day he'd asked her. It'd been a week since the battle of the Green Death, and Hiccup was finally walking on his own again. The two had spent almost every waking moment of that week together, and they were sitting on the rock in the clearing at Raven Point the day it happened. He'd been reluctant to ask at first. She knew something was wrong, because he'd started with "I'm going to ask you a dumb question", and then went on to say, "You're going to think I'm crazy". Finally, between the blush and stuttering, the question just came out.

"Astrid… are you my girlfriend?"

She couldn't believe her ears.

"…What?"

He was quick to defend himself. "I-I just want to make sure."

"Hiccup, we fought a war together, we hold hands in the village, we've kissed Odin knows how many times and we go flying _every_ night! What do you _think_ I am?"

So began a yelling match that would soon be followed by the hardest two weeks Astrid Hofferson had ever been through. For five minutes, every glitch in their new-found relationship came flooding forward in a raging storm of hurtful words. The argument covered everything. Hiccup explained his distasted for getting punched in the arm while Astrid ranted about her frustration with training her dragon and Hiccup's failure to help her. After guts had been spilled and truth had bruised like sticks and stones, Astrid ended the argument with nineteen words she never should have said:

"Well if you're going to be such a _jerk_, maybe I don't want to be your girlfriend at all!"

And she'd run away through the woods, just like she had the night they'd found the dragon's nest.

They didn't speak for two weeks. Short encounters consisted of casual smiles and awkward waves; conversations were made up of shrugs and nods. They'd both created perfect masks to hide the situation. The chief never asked his son what was on his mind; the girl's parents didn't suspect a thing; even their friends were oblivious to the cold veil hanging between them. Only Astrid noticed how Hiccup began to withdraw himself from everything and everyone around him. He spent whole days alone at the forgery. He spoke only when spoken to at dinner. He would disappear for hours in the forest, and on rare occasions, Toothless wouldn't disappear with him.

No one knew, and so no one asked. Astrid wouldn't let it show because she ignored the fact that it was happening. The whole thing was a stupid, stubborn, over-dramatic mess, and she shoved it to the back of her mind, where it boiled and festered like an unattended battle wound.

Finally the night came when she just couldn't take it anymore. That night she lay awake until the early hours of the morning, going through every emotion a teenage girl could possibly go through. Denial turned to anger, anger to despair, and despair turned to hysteria. For the first time since as far back as she could remember, Astrid Hofferson cried.

She cried and cried, clutching her sackcloth pillow to her face for comfort. These were more than the tears of a girl who'd had a fight with her boyfriend. These were tears she had been holding back for years. These were tears for the war, the hate, the blood; for the lives of Vikings and dragons alike that had been lost in a violent, three hundred-year conflict. These were the tears of stony heart who, for sixteen years, had lived for nothing but to one day see those monsters that threatened her home die by the blade of her battle axe. These were tears for a boy, a boy with one leg, a boy who was different; a peacemaker, whose bravery resided not in his muscles, but in his heart. A boy who had sacrificed everything to save the ones he loved. A boy who, in a single flight, had managed to change everything she knew without ever saying a word, who was still changing her day by day, bit by bit… dear gods, why was changing so _hard?_

_Oh, Hiccup… _

She was breaking down, and she knew it. But in that moment, it didn't matter that she hadn't cried since she was five years old. It didn't matter that warriors didn't cry, and that to shed tears was the most un-vikinglike gesture known to man. In that moment, nothing in the whole of Midgard made any sense, and she wept like she'd never wept before.

That was when Astrid finally hit rock bottom. The only place left to go was up.

Morning came at last, and with it a strange sense of peace. All the bitterness, the anger, the resentment that had been building up inside of her seemed to have washed away in that flood of tears. But with the peace came a sense of shame. She could see clearly now, and she understood that she had only her own selfishness to blame for this whole messy argument. She knew what had to be done, and she knew it wouldn't be easy. It would take every ounce of guts she had, and every ounce of pride would have to be swallowed.

That night, she walked home a little slower from the mead hall, so as to match the pace of his limp while the others went on ahead.

"Hiccup," she gushed, "I'm sorry I—"

"Shh, don't worry about it." he gently interrupted her, "I'm sorry too."

He forgave her so easily, it almost wasn't fair.

One look exchanged between them, and the tension was gone. He understood. She understood, and there was nothing left to be said about it.

They hugged, and everything went back to normal.

We all have our battles. Some are on a grand scale, with weapons and war cries, waged between mighty armies and great beasts of valor. Others are small struggles with words on fields of emotion. But the strangest and most terrifying battles are those that take place in the heart, for though we all have the power inside us to overcome them, few of us know how. They leave permanent scars, yet they serve perfect purposes.

Astrid knew what the purpose of this battle was. All along, she had been like a dragon herself: untamed and full of fire. But training a heart isn't much different from training a dragon. It is trial and error; constant, careful steps over lines drawn in the sand. It's a slow process, one that requires all the patience in the world, but it's worth it. Astrid had needed this time to herself to realize that. She knew she would come out of this a better person. She was ready to find her place in this new world where dragons and Vikings lived side by side, and that place would be right next to Hiccup. For his sake, she would change; she would train her heart just like it was a fierce, fiery dragon, and make herself into the perfect heroine for the unlikely hero of Berk.

No matter what, she would gain Hiccup's trust.


	2. Through the Ages

_Disclaimer: Insert smart-alec remark about how I don't own How To Train Your Dragon here. _

Through the Ages

Hiccup had had a crush on Astrid since as far back as he could remember.

His earliest recollection of her was from the age of five, an era when everything about the Isle of Berk was strange and wonderful. One day his childish eyes beheld the sight of a girl with yellow flowers in her braid, skipping along the shoreline and singing the words of an Old Norse lullaby. Her hair was so golden in the sunlight, he was convinced that she was the daughter of Sif sent down in human form, and he vowed that if Loki ever tried to shave her glorious locks, he would fashion a hammer and strike down the mischievous devil in one mighty blow.

At six, she was the girl who was always picked first in the games. It didn't seem fair, because he was the boy who was always picked last. While she was the girl who hunted trolls to make troll stew, he was the boy who kept trolls as pets. While he was stuck guarding the tree that was base, she was out storming the other team's make-believe fortress.

At seven, he could vaguely remember a day when they'd chased each other around the village as children do, across the docks and through the square. He'd told her that she was a girl, and that he was faster than her, and that there was no way she could ever beat him up even if she tried. She'd been determined to prove him wrong, and she did. Within ten minutes, he was lying flat on his back, all fours pinned to the ground by a little blond demon who was laughing triumphantly over him.

At eight, things were starting to change in Berk. Winter seemed longer and colder, the joys of Snoggletog only briefly warming the icy season. There seemed to be more mouths to feed and less food to feed them with. Dragon raids were worse than ever; almost every night they came, stealing the sheep and setting fire to the houses. Right and left, people were losing ears and eyes, sporting long scars across their faces and limping about with missing legs. Of course, nothing in Berk had really changed; it was Hiccup who was starting to see things from a new perspective, as they truly were.

Astrid seemed different as well. She was taller, nearly surpassing him in height, and her magical hair was adorned with the leather headband that all the Viking maidens wore. But more than that, something about her had changed on the inside. Her blue eyes didn't sparkle the way they used to; they seemed to glimmer instead, a shade darker behind her curtain of bangs. When she walked, she held her head high. When she talked, her words were sharp and forceful. Day by day, she was beginning to seem less like a goddess of beauty, and more like a goddess of war.

At nine, the children of Berk were slowly but surely starting to take on the characteristics of Vikings. They galloped about in old hand-me-down helmets, showing off the new fighting techniques their fathers were teaching them. Playtime in the village had evolved from innocent troll hunts to the deaths of imaginary dragons, a game that Hiccup was horrible at. More often than not, he was picked to be the sheep, a humiliating role where you had to crawl on all fours and bleat while the other children attempted to slay the invisible beasts that where eating you alive. The fights gradually became more elaborate, involving real weapons rather than the blunted toys. The kid who brought their father's hammer or their mother's seax scored the highest on the popularity scale. Astrid outdid them all, because for her tenth birthday, she received her very own battle axe.

In wasn't long before every kid in Berk feared her. Don't mess with Astrid. Stay out of Astrid's way. Whatever Astrid says, goes. If you were Astrid's friend, you were safe and protected; if you were Astrid's enemy, you were done for. She was a force to be reckoned with, and suddenly Hiccup found that he was terrified of her. Every time he saw her, flaunting her new weapon liked she was born with it in her hand, his knees would start knocking and he felt a strange urge to turn and run in the opposite direction. And yet, his longing to be around her was suddenly stronger than it had ever been before. It made no sense. How could he want so badly to be close to someone, yet miles away from them at the same time?

At eleven, boys began wrestling each other to see which of them was the strongest. It was the age of muscles and roughhousing, but not for Hiccup. All of the sudden, his arms and legs were too long for him to control, and every time he turned his head, something fell and shattered on the ground. He was too clumsy, too freckled, and too small to be considered part of the in-crowd, and so he was laughed out, despised, rejected. Meanwhile, Astrid was stealing the hearts of every male preteen in the tribe. They worshiped the ground she walked on, and even though she never seemed to pay them any attention, it made Hiccup's stomach hurt to look over and see Snotlout or Tuffnut trailing along behind her like terrors on a leash.

It wasn't just the boys who were starting give Astrid special attention. Some of the adults were beginning to notice her as well. He could still remember the day it happened, sometime in late autumn. Astrid had killed a stag in the forest and brought it back to the chieftain to add to the winter food supply. Under normal circumstances, such an act would have gone unnoticed, but Astrid was the youngest child ever to kill such a large animal, and a girl at that. She was recognized and presented to the tribe and while the crowds cheered. From where he stood in the crowd, Hiccup could see the look on her face: proud, confident, accomplished… she was a Viking now, and nothing was ever going to stand in her way.

Why did that suddenly make him feel so small?

Everyone around him was becoming a Viking. Everyone except _him_.

The day he turned twelve, he was called downstairs for a certain "talk". His heart soared, thinking his father about to share with him some ancient, manly secret to becoming a Viking. Two minutes later, he ran back up to his room crying. He was going to be Gobber's apprentice at the smithy.

Dragon raids became a nightly occurrence again. This time, Hiccup observed them from the forgery window, handing weapons to warriors as they dashed off to fight battles he'd never join in. Beyond him, the children of Berk, now the _teenagers_ of Berk, were part of the action. They ran through the night slinging buckets of water on fires, and then bragged about their stylish scars and burn marks during the day. Astrid was the best of all of them, a Viking through and through. She looked the part now, clad in her armored skirt and wrapped vambraces. And her he was, in a grease-stained apron, staring slack-jawed after her like he even had a chance. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't help himself. As she ran about among the flames, she looked more radiant than anything he'd ever seen.

And it just kept getting worse.

At thirteen, he thought about her every day. His daydreams were centered around unanswered questions. Who did she like? What did she think of him? Did she see him the way everyone else did: worthless, weak, and useless? Of course she did. She hardly acknowledged his existence. Every now and then she would come to the stall to get her ax sharpened, but she wasn't much for conversation. Clearly there were a thousand places she'd rather be than in a dirty blacksmith's shop making small talk with the village screw-up.

At fourteen, he could feel it everywhere. It was a sick feeling in his stomach; a dizziness in his head; a tingling in his fingers tips; a weakness in his knees. Every time he saw her, it ached deeper than anything he'd ever felt. _Please,_ he cried out silently, _Please notice me. You're everything I want to be. Don't you even know how long I've admired you? _

At fifteen, he was convinced that the gods hated him. His prayers floated to the celling, but no answers came. All he wanted was one chance to kill a dragon. One change to prove himself. One chance to impress Astrid, maybe even to get her to like him. One chance to do _anything_ that would feel _right, _for once in his life… was it _really_ too much to ask?

Then… sixteen came.

And suddenly, none of it mattered anymore.

At sixteen, his father set sail to search for the dragon's nest, leaving him behind to fend for himself. At sixteen, he was thrust into fighting lessons, which he would have begged for the day before they started, but now couldn't wait until they were over. At sixteen, Astrid was talking to him—warning him, threatening him, but talking to him nonetheless—and he hardly noticed. All those dreams were behind him now. Every problem that had weighed on his mind for the first sixteen years of his life now seemed incredibly miniscule.

Because at sixteen, he discovered his purpose.

At sixteen, he trained a dragon.

His thoughts had been seized by a new pursuit. Toothless. Toothless in the morning. Toothless after training. When he went to bed in the evening, he wondered if Toothless had enough food. When he woke up, he wondered if Toothless had slept through the night. Nothing else seemed to matter any more. Every afternoon, he would steal away to the clearing at Raven Point to see the friend that was always there for him. This friend didn't care that he wasn't a Viking. He didn't care that Hiccup was freckled and skinny, or that he was the clumsiest boy alive, or that he was too weak and scrawny to pick up an ax. All this friend cared about was the fact that thanks to Hiccup, he was still alive and flying.

He wished everyone could see him the way Toothless did.

Little did he know, they soon would.

Astrid was a Viking through and through. She was as stubborn as Thor himself, grounded in the ways and traditions of a 300 year old belief system that wasn't about to die away. She was the last person he ever expected to convince, and yet the first he managed to get through to.

He didn't know why she climbed on the back of that dragon. He couldn't comprehend the looks of wonder on her face as they sailed through the clouds: hands in the sky, hair brushed back gently in the wind, eyes sparkling in a way he hadn't seen in ten years. He didn't know why she wrapped her arms around him as they floated on the wings of the night. At the time, he wasn't thinking about how all these years he'd been trying to win her by changing himself, and yet he was winning her without changing a thing. The fact that the gods knew _exactly_ what they were doing, that they'd only been holding out on him, that all this time they'd been waiting for him to discover his purpose so that they could give him the love of his life when he least expected it, never even crossed his mind.

When Astrid kissed him on the cheek that night, and sixteen years of feeling replayed over in his head, Hiccup knew only one thing.

He was five years old, all over again.

* * *

_Authors Note: One encounters two problems when researching Viking culture for the fun of it. The first is that they find out their favorite movie is terribly historically inaccurate. The second is that people make fun of them for their geekiness. Anywoo, I have great big gooey cyber chocolate-chip cookies for the people who get the Norse Mythology reference in this chapter. :)_

_Thank you so much for your reviews! To everyone who's favorited or decided to follow this story, I can't thank you enough for sticking around! I really liked writing this chapter. :) It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The thing I love the most about this romance, and something I feel is often overlooked, is the outstanding way that Hiccup handles his feelings for Astrid. In the beginning of the film, he's constantly trying to get her attention, yet it's only when he finds his purpose and becomes content to be without her that she actually ends up falling for him. Hiccup is as crazy about Astrid in the end of the film as he in in the beginning; it's what he does with those feelings keep him on the right track. Something all of us who've dealt with a crush can learn from, don't you think? ;)_

_This was originally going to just be something short and sweet, but it expanded into a much longer rambling than I planned. Hopefully it didn't bore you guys too much. Tell me what you thought! God Bless until next time! –Story_


	3. Protective Instincts

_Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. But if I do well in my studies next year and somehow magically score an internship with DreamWorks, I could have my name in the credits of How To Train Your Dragon 2… or 3… that would be soooooo cool…_

* * *

Protective Instincts

He is her purpose now.

Sixteen years of her life have been spent on one mission. Kill dragons. Defend home. Everything she's done, she's done for the effort of the war that she's always known she was about to inherit. Now that war is over. In all the madness, one boy found the courage to stop fighting, and now suddenly her home is a place of peace. But _she_ can't stop fighting. After sixteen years of knowing exactly what you want to die for, it's not easy to accept that such a death would have been in vain. And a reason to live is much harder to find than a reason to die.

So she lives for the only thing that she knows how to live for. She lives for him.

She's sworn to protect him, and she doesn't intend to break that promise. So when a wave of snow suddenly comes tumbling down the side of the mountain, when what was supposed to be no more than a fun race turns into a sudden struggle to get out of the canyon alive, all of her thoughts and instincts center around the sole fact that his safety is more important than her own. Despite his pleas for her to go back, regardless of the fact that 10,000 pounds of snow and ice are about to bury them alive, she stays at his side. If she can grab his hand, she'll be able to pull him up onto Stormfly's saddle behind her, and maybe Toothless will be able to gain enough momentum to hop the canyon without the extra weight of a rider on his back.

She reaches.

They only have seconds left.

Seconds aren't enough.

The distance between them and the canyon closes. Before comprehension is even possible both Vikings and Dragons are thrown into icy grave as the avalanche covers them.

Everything is still.

Still and _cold_.

"A-Astrid?" Hiccup's chilled, raspy voice says in the darkness.

She tries to answer him. She knows what she should say. She should ask if he's ok, make sure isn't hurt, because that's what she desperately needs to know. But suddenly all she can think about is the fact that her arms are bare, that her breath sharp, and that she can't stop shaking.

"Over here." She's says with equal rasp. "Hiccup," she's shivers, violently, "I'm freezing."

"Come here."

Something surrounds her, like a blanket or a coat. It's made of cloth and soft fur, but heat is already present in its folds like it's been warmed up for her. It encloses her in its warmth, making her feel safe and slowing her anxious pulse that can't seem to draw oxygen from the cold air fast enough. It holds her gently, and suddenly she realizes that it's not a coat or a blanket. It's his arms. Just the thought of that warms every fiber of her being, and she wraps her arms around him in return.

"Where are the dragons?"

A shaft of light shoots up through the darkness. Then another one. Sunlight breaks through and pours into the tiny space that they've been trapped in. The hole in the darkness above them reveals Toothless and Stormfly, who are standing erect on either side of them, their wings wrapped around each other to shield the snow that would have otherwise killed them both. They marvel at these amazing creatures they've trained, amazed by the protective instincts that they've just exhibited.

Then they realize that their still holding each other.

_Awkward_.

They pull away instinctively, quite ironically considering that fact that "instinct" had been the cause of the embrace in the first place. She'd die for him. He would do the same for her, and when the time comes for them to put their lives on the line for each other, they don't think twice. Reaching out for his hand. Pulling her into a warm hug. Whatever needs to be done to ensure that the other is safe, it just comes naturally to them, and it happens without second thought.

They're sworn to protect each other.

But they'd never let each other know.

* * *

_Author's Note: Hey-o! Yeah, I'm back. :) But unfortunately, not for long. :( My brief abandonment of this story can be explained by the fact that senior year has completely confiscated my life for the past few months, and shall most likely continue to do so until I finally get to turn my tassel in June. So, fear not, this story has not and will not be abandoned. It's just in the midst of a hiatus for now. This chapter came to me pretty quickly, so I figured I didn't need to keep you all waiting too long._

_Now that season 1 of "Riders of Berk" is over, I'm finally able to get my thoughts on the show as a whole in order and look at the franchise from a canon perspective. Surprisingly… it's a very good show! The cheesy one-liners, pacing problems, and somewhat cheap graphics are things that I nip-pick at, but overall, it's done a great job at sticking to the spirit of the film. As for the way Hiccup and Astrid's relationship has been portrayed… it's been interesting. Definitely not what I expected. When I first saw this episode, best known for the "avalanche scene", I was slightly annoyed about that fact that Hiccup and Astrid were still being awkward around each other, even after they seemed to be so close during GOTNF. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made; they're kids, they obviously care about and have feelings for each other, but they're still too young to know how to handle it. The way their relationship in the show is constantly switching back and forth between best-friends-who-are-always-there-for-each-other and immature-teens-who-can't-handle-awkwardness is actually very, VERY sweet. :3 Can't wait to see them grow, both separately and together!_

_The rest of these one-shots will be mostly RoB centered, simply because I have a desparate need to keep things as close to canon as possible. Ideas and requests are always welcome! I'll try to get some more up in the next couple months, but in the meantime keep me in your prayers as my senior year winds down. God bless once again! _

_-Story_

_ps. I've never written in present tense before… not sure if I like it or not… _


	4. Resistance

_Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own it._

Resistance

Whatever was about to happen, she knew it was going to hurt.

Astrid stood still as a stone, fists clenched, eyes fixated forward, breathing steadily in and out. The entire tribe stood by, watching, not daring to interfere with the interrogation that was taking place. For that, she was grateful. If she had to bear this, she was going to bear it alone, hoping that the small amount of courage within her would be enough to save the rest of the tribe from the same torment. Though throwing the hatchet hadn't been the most brilliant idea, it had fulfilled her goal of earning her a spot on this elevated platform, right in the center of Alvin's attention. This distraction would only buy them a minimal amount of time, but every second had become crucial to the security of the tribe. At this point, she would go for anything to keep them safe.

Anything to keep _him_ safe.

Alvin the Treacherous circled her like a Thunderdrum around a fishing boat, wielding the hatchet she'd thrown at him like it was the weapon he learned to fight with. "Try'n ta kill Alvin, eh?" he said in a low, raspy voice, "Well, ya're not as smart as ya look, girly." His enormous shadow engulfed her own as it stretched out over the stony ground before her. She didn't want to think about how massive his figure was compared to hers, knowing that at the moment she was entirely at the mercy of his colossal, Viking-strong hands. There was no telling what he would do to get an answer out of her, and judging the tone of his voice, none of it would be pretty.

"Tell me," he whispered, leaning in so close that his course beard tickled the side of her face, "Who is your Dragon Conqueror?" She could feel his hot breath on her the back of neck, but she didn't budge. Resistance was great talent of hers, and she excercised it freely.

"TELL ME!"

Suddenly her head was jerked backwards, sending, a horrible shock of pain down her spine. She could feel it burning in the back of her head, her hair being torn out by the roots as Alvin yanked down on her braid with brute force. For a moment, the fear seized her. At any minute he could reach for her perfectly exposed neck, and her life would be over with one constriction of his massive fist. Would he kill her that quickly if she didn't give in? After all, there were plenty of other Vikings in the crowd who knew who the "dragon conqueror" was, and one quick kill would probably make them much less reluctant to give up the truth. How far would this tyrant go to get what he wanted?

But soon enough, it didn't matter anymore. A face appeared from behind the rocks, and suddenly the absolute worst had happened.

"Leave her alone."

It was Hiccup.

_Hiccup._

_No no no no no…_

What was he _doing_ here?! Didn't he know it was _him_ they were after?! He should have been miles away, hiding under a house, or in the hollow of a tree—somewhere, _anywhere_ but here! _Please, oh please, Odin, don't let him try to save me._ Her pact to protect him wasn't supposed to run both ways!

"Hiccup!" she gasped, "What are you doing!?" With every word, she tried to warn him: _Get out of here! It's you they want!_ But as he jumped down from the rocks, landing perfectly on the metal prosthetic that never hurt him to walk on anymore, the confidence in his eyes ascertained that he understood exactly what he was getting himself into.

He already knew. He already knew everything.

He proclaimed himself to be the dragon conqueror, loud and proud for everyone to hear. And though the Outcasts laughed at him, it wouldn't take long prove what was one hundred percent the trueth. Astrid's mind raced; she couldn't let this happen. A thousand different cover plans ran frantically through her brain as she tried to think of some way counter the move that Hiccup was making. But upon locking her eyes with his, she met an expression that silenced her every motive. One look from Hiccup told her what she really needed to do. And unlike before, when she could have endured unspeakable torture without ever letting her resolve waver, there would be no resistance of the small, simple command that that look gave her.

_Trust me. _

She knew she had no choice but to do as he said.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well... meh, I'll do this later. Please review! :) -Story_


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